I'll Never Let You Go
by FedExed
Summary: After seeing the boys perform Justin Bieber, Brittany really wants to see Justin live. Unfortunately, the only person who can get Santana the tickets is Rachel who has a few conditions that Santana must meet...


_"I don't need nothing else. I promise girl I swear. I just need somebody to love."_

The music reverberated through the auditorium and colorful hoodies were being dowsed in chalk. Clapping and dancing came from the first row of seats, with a bitter looking loner sitting directly behind grumbling about the whole situation. What a downer.

"Santana... where are they getting that chalk from?" Brittany wondered. Her blue eyes stared at the stage in complete awe. From the outside, it would look like she was in love with the whole performance... but she just really, really loved chalk. Santana looked over at Brittany, ready to lovingly let her down easy. It was just in their pockets, no magic was involved. Then she examined the situation closer. That chalk was most definitely not from their pockets. They weren't reaching in to them. Her dark eyebrows knitted on her forehead, her deep brown eyes focused in unwavering concentration, wondering the same thing as Brittany.

"I don't know B," she unhelpfully replied with her head cocked to the side in frustrated curiousity. Suddenly, Brittany's eyes grew even wider and her head jerked towards Santana. She leaned in close to the other girl, her mouth close enough that her breath was tickling the other girl's ear. Brittany, who never had a problem with personal space (and Santana wasn't one to object... I mean, it _is_Brittany), leaned in even closer. Like she was about to conspire.

"What if it's from the chalk gods?" she whispered like it was some big secret. Santana tensed immediately. Her back went rigid, her eyes went dead, and memories flooded through her. The chalk gods. The last time these 'chalk gods' were involved, Santana ended up powdered in greens and blues... and she means _powdered_. They were only seven at the time. Brittany had thought blowing on the chalk after scraping it in the same spot for a good ten minutes would turn it into glitter. Clearly she had been wrong.

"I thought the chalk gods were gone," Santana said more to herself than to Brittany. The worry consumed her system because anytime chalk was involved, even if it had _nothing_ to do with the 'chalk gods', something weird happened... and this weird thing was not the type of weird Santana liked (kinky), because there's not many weird (kinky) things one can do with chalk. Sensing Santana's apprehension, Brittany wound her arm around the girl's waist and drew her in closer. Santana tensed for a moment, before realizing they were Brittany and Santana. No one was going to pick up the giant lesbian anchor weighing her down because Brittany put her arm around her. Her tenseness increased momentarily before having this revelation, but quickly oblivion sucked it away as Brittany's arms transferred her all the comfort and warmth that _is_ Brittany. There was so much comfort and warmth, in fact, that she almost forgot she was being haunted by the chalk gods for the first time in ten years. _Almost_.

"Santana, the chalk gods are never gone!" Brittany squealed in scandal as if Santana had told her they weren't going to the park that Saturday to feed the ducks. Santana was sure that if the other girls weren't so engrossed in this lame Bieber performance that Brittany would be receiving more than one odd look... and Finn, who was way less then engrossed, wasn't exactly prone to disputing Brittany's Brittanyisms. She'd once managed to convince him that Lord Tubbington was a descendant of Simba from Lion King. He probably believed in the chalk gods too. It wasn't a far throw from the Grilled Cheesus shit he'd preached about. Shaking her head and bringing her back to this horrible reality, Santana inhaled a deep breath.

"What do the chalk gods want this time, Britt?" Santana asked hesitantly. She knew the only way to avoid this situation was to appease Brittany. And _no, _she isn't whipped, she just... oh, who's she kidding? She's pretty damn whipped and they aren't even _dating_.

"They want us to see Justin Bieber," Brittany vocalized with a beam on her face like she'd just been told they made cat-safe proof diaries. Her arm squeezed around Santana tighter as she felt the Latina go frigid and heave out a quick sigh. The austere posture didn't last for long as she melted back into Brittany's arm.

"But of course," she muttered to herself. Sometimes Santana thought Brittany would be the world's best con artist (hell, maybe she _is_). She could easily get her way from anyone if she presented an outlandish enough idea, then tamed it down and made it appear to be a compromise. For example, if she told Sam that she wanted him to make Michael Jackson come back from the dead, he would think she's serious... but instead, she pretends to settle for Sam's reluctant (and spot-on) impression of the man. Santana often thinks that these compromises aren't compromises at all and Brittany's goal from the get-go. Sometimes she thinks that Brittany is the smartest person she knows.

Focusing herself, Santana creased her eyebrows together in thought. Where the hell was she going to get Justin Bieber tickets? She heard Brittany's younger sister talking about some concert in Cleveland soon, but Justin Bieber could sell stadiums faster than Santana could steal a designer label and _that_ was saying something. She shifted her brain into its highest gears and tried to concoct an efficient, legal (she wanted no risks with Brittany involved) way to get tickets. She had almost given up when she heard the performance drawing to a close and Brittany's arm drawing away from her to give the boys an enthusiastic fist pump, but then in her head chimes and gongs sounded in synchronization. _Berry._

The performance ended and as the guys began loading Artie off the stage, Santana parted from Brittany and seized Rachel's bicep in a strong grip. The other girl gave a squeal of protest as Santana offered the other members of the Glee club a sickly sweet smile, dripping with as much fake as Paris Hilton, before practically skipping off into the direction of the girl's bathroom and dragging Rachel behind her all the way. Luckily, the Glee club was too distracted with showering the boys in compliments to even notice. Rachel, on the other hand, had the look of deathly fear lingering in her brown eyes. Actually, it wasn't lingering, it was more like clouding every other possible emotion she could be feeling. When they arrived at the bathrooms, Santana all but threw the animal-sweater (today it was a camel) clad Rachel into the room. Rachel opened her mouth to speak, but Santana interrupted her.

"Listen dwarf, as surprising as this may be to you, I didn't come here for a synopsis on Wicked, so save your breath," Santana began, channeling all of her intimidation into her chocolate brown eyes and hoping to transfer it to Rachel. It seemed to be working as the look in Rachel's eyes did nothing to diminish and her stature appeared even more defensive. "Your dads have connections at Quickens, right?"

"While I do not recognize how their status at the Quicken Loans Arena applies to our current situa-"

"If you would spend less time sucking the patience out of me and more time answering my question, you might find out."

"I do believe I deserve to have some inkling of knowledge as to why you are inquiring the-"

"Yes or no, Streisand."

"Just for comparing me to one of my greatest idols and the heritage of my middle name I-"

"Yes," Santana emphasized in a harsh tone, stepping closer to the significantly shorter girl, "or no."

"Yes," Rachel finally caved, the fear escalating fast.

"Good. Do you think they could possibly manage to find it in their hearts to score Justin Bieber tickets for one of their daughter's very best friends?" Santana smiled at Rachel in mock-sweetness.

Then, something clicked in Rachel's eyes. "Would this happen to be in relation to the request made by Brittany?" Rachel bravely questioned as if her fear had evaporated once she'd come to this revelation. Suddenly, the fire burned back into Santana's eyes and that was all the answer that Rachel needed. "I do find your relationship with her quite endearing given your natural tendencies to be cantankerous with-"

"What's that? You want me to punch you so hard you'll be the first person to visit Mars?"

"Actually, Santana, with the utilization of satellites and other things of such nature, humans have practically visited Mars already."

With a dangerously sharp roll of her eyes, Santana ignored the other girl and asked, "so, is that a yes or a no?"

"What is in it for me?" Rachel asked, her fear having completely obliterated,

Santana's eyes narrowed and scowled. Was the girl serious? "I don't know, I _won't_ rip out your vocal chords and feed them to my two angry pit bulls who _really_ have a taste for Broadway wannabe teenagers?"

Rachel crossed her arms, unimpressed.

"Fine. What do you want Pinocchio?"

"A week's worth of no insults, a compliment for each day of the week and being addressed as my birth name."

Santana scowled heavily at the girl, but it was easier than she expected. "Fine. Deal."

"But wait, I'm not finished." Santana's scowl only heightened. "_And _you have to admit in front of the glee club that you want to be _with_ Brittany."

Santana's eyes widened and she felt the saliva leave her mouth. "I- _what?" _she spluttered.

"You have to admit in front of the glee club that you want to be with Brittany," she repeated as if it were the most simple thing in the world.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Manhands."

"Come _on _Santana. You sang Landslide with her, you give her the same looks that I give Finn, and when she talks about all the people in the school she's slept with, I can see how jealous you are. It's nothing to be ashamed of, Santana. Love is a beautiful thing, you should feel blessed that you managed to find it with someone more than willing to return it to you."

"That's bullshit," Santana seethed, backing up and crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm not going to judge you, Santana. I am the proud daughter of two gay men who raised me into being a loving, accepting-"

"Hobit."

"_Human being. _This act you have been pulling is nothing short of irritating. If it goes on for too long, you will lose the one person I know you truly care for. I not only do not want to witness the side of Santana Lopez without Brittany, I know it will ruin the entire Glee club's dynamic. I'm not doing this for you, Santana. I'm doing this for everyone."

"I don't care about your fucking intentions. You're completely off base anyways."

"Once you're ready to admit to me and the rest of glee club who you really are, maybe you will get those tickets," Rachel affirmed sharply before darting around Santana and storming out of the bathroom, back into the choir room. Santana remained back and pressed her forehead against the cool white tiles of the bathroom wall, attempting to bring down her rage before she made her reappearance in the choir room. How the fuck did Berry figure it out? Did everyone know? Is she going to get 'dyke' painted on her locker? Santana groaned and slammed her head against the biting cold tiles, bringing a fist up to rest next to it and pound on it. As soon as her fist connected with the wall, a frightened looking freshman with skin of porcelain and hair of coal entered the bathroom with her eyes as wide as that stupid guidance counselor's. Normally, Santana would've found this comical and empowering that she _still_ had that effect on people without her Cheerios uniform, but now she was just irritated.

"You want something Snow White? I bet I can find you a delicious apple," Santana barked at the girl before stomping around her and out of the bathroom, trying to cool herself down on the journey to the choir room. Rachel was just talking out of her ass, that is all. She wanted to see if she could get Santana to admit to something to use it as bait against her. Yeah, that's all, right? She'd repeated it enough times in her head on the journey to the choir room that she almost managed to convince herself of it, but as soon as her eyes landed on that stupid girl sitting with her stupid short legs _completely_ ignoring her presence, it all came flooding back to her. All the rage she'd left in the hallway coursed through her body and she summoned it all into a biting remark.

"Sorry Berry, I couldn't find any birds willing to take you in after you left. They all told me your schnoz was too big to fit in." Rachel looked at Santana for a brief moment, offering her an almost sympathetic look, and then returned to her chat with Kurt dismissively. With a huff of bated breath she sulked over to her normal seat next to Brittany (who was currently not in it), slightly away from the fray of other teens. Brittany, whose eyes had already been trained on Santana from the moment she entered the room, immediately abandoned her conversation with Sam (something to do with wanting to join the oboe enthusiast club, Santana thought she heard) and took her place next to Santana. She turned towards her, concern etching every one of her features.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Santana looked over at Brittany and as chocolate met ice, she felt her aggravation immediately slipping away and she _hated_ it. She wanted to be angry at Rachel, she wanted to be pissed at the entire world, but staring into Brittany's eyes she couldn't help but feel some sense of all of this hatred and resent pooling out of her system. Instead of being infuriated at Rachel's insistence, she found herself contemplating why she didn't follow it. She would be able to reach out and hold Brittany's hand right now (not those pathetic pinky links), she'd be able to comb that stray blonde hair from her bangs poking out back into its rightful place, she'd be able to capture those lips with her own at any time she wanted. But as soon as the thoughts passed through her head, she scolded herself. She can't do any of that because she lives in Lima fucking Ohio. Her hand holds would be interrupted with idiots taunting "dykes!". Her kisses would be interrupted with idiots slinging cold, chilling slushies all over their bodies. _That's_ why she couldn't have Brittany out in public. She found her rage coming back and all she wanted to do was take Karofsky in her arms and then punch the living shit out of him. He was the ring leader, he started all of this gay-bashing shit with Kurt.

"Santana?" Brittany looked genuinely concerned. She knew when Santana was hurting before even Santana herself knew she was hurting. "Are you okay?" she questioned, scooting her chair closer to Santana and searching her eyes. Santana expected to turn her head and see Rachel sitting, looking at her smugly, but she wasn't. She wasn't looking at Santana at all. Santana couldn't decide whether this angered her or made her feel relieved.

"Yeah Britt, I'm fine," she told her. Brittany didn't look convinced.

"Do you want to come to my house after school?" Brittany asked her hesitantly, biting her bottom lip. Brittany knew as well as Santana did that the only thing that could cheer Santana up when she got in one of her moods was Brittany. Santana shook her head, though, knowing that on Thursdays after school Brittany volunteered to help teach little kids to dance. She also knew that Brittany would drop them for her in a heart beat.

"Thanks Britt, but I'll be fine," Santana offered her a reassuring smile.

"Are you sure?" Brittany asked, concern written all over her face.

"Positive," Santana smiled and even if the rage was still bubbling under the surface, it was being suppressed by the toothy grin Brittany shot her as she offered out her pinky and the loving eyes that were looking back at her. In that moment, Santana realized she didn't give a damn if someone suspected something. She was content to just be with Brittany, with their pinkies linked and Brittany's head on her shoulder. It was enough.

"Do you think that they'd let me join the Oboe Enthusiast Club?" Brittany asked Santana. She _knew _that's what she heard Brittany saying to Sam.

"Can you play the oboe?" Santana asked her. She didn't think so, but Brittany never failed to surprise her.

"Well, no. But I'm pretty enthusiastic about it," Brittany pouted. Santana laughed.

"Then don't you worry, I'll make sure they let you in. I've got your back Britt," Santana smiled, resting her head on top of Brittany's and squeezing her pinky a little tighter. Santana could feel the smile against her shoulder and it made her do was want to plant a kiss on top of Brittany's forehead, entwine their whole hands together, and assure her that she'd help the blonde do anything that she wanted to do no matter how extreme or how outlandish it was.

"You always do."

Before Santana could even think to reply, the bell rang and the two were up out of their seat making their way to Brittany's car. Brittany had always been a considerably better driver than Santana (who had three speeding tickets under her belt already), so they'd agreed to let Brittany drive them. Brittany enjoyed it and Santana enjoyed it because Brittany enjoyed it.

The ride back to the car was comfortable and filled with their usual chatter about mostly absolutely nothing. When Brittany pulled into Santana's driveway, she put the car in park and turned towards Santana. "If you need me, call me," Brittany told her with finality. Santana grinned at her.

"Gonna start serenading me?" Santana teased. Brittany allowed a small smile to play on her lips and she played along. She repeated herself, this time to the tune of the song. Shortly after she humored the Latina, her face fell serious.

"But really. I don't want any calls about you breaking Rachel's schlong," Brittany said. Santana laughed.

"Schnoz," she corrected. Brittany shrugged. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"Okay," Brittany said, searching Santana's eyes for any indication that she was lying. When she didn't find any, she smiled. "I'll miss you."

Even though Santana knew they'd only go a few hours until they saw each other again, Santana said, "I'll miss you too" and she wondered when the hell she'd become such a sap. As her eyes met Brittany's and she could see the small flecks of silver intermingling with the blue and the few freckles painting her tanned face, she wanted nothing more than to kiss her and show her how much she'd miss her. But she couldn't. Brittany didn't want to be with someone who insisted on keeping themselves hidden, and Santana didn't want to hear the taunts of the stupid jocks at school. They'd agreed to lay off on the sweet lady kisses until they could find a happy medium and frankly, that wasn't working out well for Santana. Instead she wrapped her arms around Brittany's neck, buried her head in the crook between Brittany's neck and shoulder, and felt as Brittany wrapped her protective arms around her body. She felt safe. She felt like she was invincible, like she could fly, like she could do anything she wanted to do all because she was wrapped up in Brittany's arms. Santana inhaled the strawberry of Brittany's shampoo, the flowers of her perfume, and fought to let her go. Offering one last loving smile to Brittany, which was returned in full, Santana slowly waded into her house doing her best to move her hips in just the right way as Brittany stared at her retreating form.

Stopping at her front door and turning around to offer Brittany (who was biting her bottom lip) a final wave, she opened the door and entered her house. Her mother, who was _never _home at this hour, stood waiting for her.

"That was quite the hug you gave her," her mother began. Santana shrugged.

"We're best friends."

"And that's all?" her mom asked her with an arched eyebrow.

"Yeah. That's all." Her mom didn't seem convinced, but Santana didn't feel like dealing with her and she was far too mellowed out from having just parted with Brittany to dish back scathing remarks to her. She started up to her room, allowing the words to sink in. _That's all_.

It wasn't all. It hadn't been all since 6th grade when Santana finally realized what those weird butterflies in her stomach meant. Those weird butterflies she'd never gotten for Puck, she'd never gotten for Sam, she'd never gotten for _any_ of the guys she's dated. She's never gotten for anyone except Brittany. She's never wanted to be with someone the way she's wanted to be with Brittany. She's never wanted to stay in the bed and cuddle after sex, she's never looked forward to the cuddling nearly (but not) as much as she did the sex. It wasn't just about getting off with Brittany (which no guy had ever done anyways... unless she was pretending he was Brittany), it was more than that. It had always been with feelings way before Santana even wanted to admit that it had. Maybe she'd convinced herself different before, but there was no denying it now. Santana Lopez is in love with Brittany. It doesn't matter that she's a girl. She's in love with her. No one has ever come close to making her feel the way Brittany has. She feels light, she feels happy, she feels calm when she's with Brittany. No one else matters, just the two of them.

She thought back to her hug with Brittany in the car. She thought back to how perfectly safe she felt in her arms. She felt like if Azimo or Karofsky or any of the other bullies had come up to them and taunted them, she wouldn't care, because she had Brittany. She felt so safe and so invincible. Somehow, in that moment, she knew that it didn't matter how many taunts were dished out at them or how many slushies were thrown at them, it wouldn't matter. She wanted to be with Brittany. She wanted everyone to know she was with Brittany. She wanted to be able to feel that safe everywhere. Safer than she ever felt before: before she realized she liked girls, before she even realized how cruel people were. She wanted to be with Brittany in private and in public. She knew Rachel was right. She couldn't lose this. She couldn't lose those butterflies, she couldn't lose that safety, she couldn't lose _Brittany. _She had to get her girl.

The next day at school, Santana was practically shaking with anticipation the entire day. Brittany gave her a few weird looks, hell, even Quinn noticed that something was up. She was extra jumpy. Her nerves had reached their maximum, but so had her excitement. The two combined made for a very, very anxious Lopez which made for some very, very frightened innocent passerbys when the earlier outweighed the later. After long hours, the time for glee finally came. When she told Mr. Shue that she had something she wanted to sing, she earned an encouraging smile from Rachel (even though Santana had made sure to not tell her out of spite), a look of realization from Quinn, and a quizzical look from the rest of the club. The music began, Santana inhaled a deep breath, and braced herself.

_They say that hate has been sent__  
><em>_So let loose the talk of love __  
><em>_Before they outlaw the kiss __  
><em>_Baby, give me one last hug_

Her eyes met with Brittany's.

_There's a dream that I've been chasing __  
><em>_Want so badly for it to be reality __  
><em>_And when you hold my hand then I understand __  
><em>_That it's meant to be 'cause, baby, when you're with me_

Throwing away her inhibitions, Santana waltzed over to Brittany and took her hand in perfect sync with the song's mention of it.

_It's like an angel came by, oh and took me to heaven__  
><em>_Like you took me to heaven, girl __  
><em>_'Cause when I stare in your eyes it couldn't be better __  
><em>_I don't want you to go, oh no, so_

As she sang, it was like every emotion she'd been feeling since 6th grade came pouring out of her. When she, like the song said, looked into Brittany's eyes, she felt safe. She felt like nothing in the world mattered except the two of them.

_Let the music blast, we gon' do our dance __  
><em>_Bring the doubters on, they don't matter at all__  
><em>_'Cause this life's too long and this love's too strong __  
><em>_So baby, know for sure that I'll never let you go_

Karofsky didn't matter, Azimo didn't matter, no one that would sling mud and tell them how wrong it was to be themselves mattered. She could be with Brittany. That's what mattered.

_I got my favorite girl _

_Not feeling no pain, no fear _

_Don't have a care in the world _

_Why would I when you are here? _

_There's a moment I've been chasing _

_And I finally caught it out on this floor _

_Baby, there's no hesitation, no reservation _

_By taking a chance and more, oh no, because_

She pulled Brittany out of her chair, still crooning the words at her and ignoring the rest of the club's stares of disbelief and of pride. She spun the girl around, trying to express how sorry she was that she took this long, but how glad she'd finally got to this point.

_It's like an angel came by and took me to heaven_

_Like you took me to heaven, girl _

_'Cause when I stare in your eyes, it couldn't be better I don't want you to go, oh no, so _

_Let the music blast, we gon' do our dance _

_Bring the doubters on, they don't matter at all _

_'Cause this life's too long and this love's too strong _

_So baby, know for sure that I'll never let you go_

_It's like an angel came by and took me to heaven _

_Like you took me to heaven, girl _

_'Cause when I stare in your eyes, it couldn't be better _

_I don't want you to go, oh no, so_

Tears were flowing freely from her eyes at this point. Not in fear, not in pain, not in anything other than joy that here she was, dancing with the girl she'd so long known she's in love with without _caring._ Brittany smiled at her and took the next verse as her own.

_Take my hand, let's just dance _

_Watch my feet, follow me _

_Don't be scared, girl, I'm here _

_If you didn't know, this is love_

Brittany sang to her, assuring her everything Santana had feared and dreaded didn't matter. She was here.

_Let the music blast, we gon' do our dance _

_Bring the doubters on, they don't matter at all, oh baby _

_'Cause this life's too long and this love's too strong _

_So baby, know for sure that I'll never let you go _

_So don't fear, don't you worry 'bout a thing I am here, right here,_

_I'll never let you go _

_Don't shed a tear whenever you need me I'll be here, I'll never let you go _

_Oh no, oh no, oh I'll never let you go Oh no, oh no, oh I'll never let you go_

They finished the song together, smiling at each other with the most radiant smiles that either had ever seen. It was like their first kiss all over again. Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany's neck, Brittany tightly wound hers around Santana's waist, and they stood like that, taking in the essence of each other while the rest of the club hooted and hollered and cheered them on. Pulling back from the hug, Santana looked at the overjoyed smile on Brittany's face and how she'd never genuinely seen her look so _happy _even though she was Brittany, the happiest person in the world.

"Will you be my girlfriend, Brittany Pierce?" she asked her and the grin on Brittany's face only expanded as she nodded her head fervently, not being able to choke anything out over the joyful tears cascading down her cheeks. Wiping away the tears gently with her thumb, she leaned in to kiss Brittany. Every feeling of fright she'd felt before felt so silly and trivial. Here she was, Santana Lopez, being able to kiss her _girlfriend._ Their lips met in a chaste kiss, massaging lightly against each other like they'd done so many times before, but this time was different. They were free, uninhibited, free of all the worries Santana had bottled up. Their lips mingled against each other and tingles ran down Santana's entire body. She fit perfectly with Brittany, their lips tangled in right the right ways. Just as Brittany begin to suck on Santana's bottom lip and the kiss grew less and less chaste, Mr. Shue decided to break it up.

"Alright girls, I'm happy for you, but I think you both need some air!" he laughed, barely caring when they took a good five more seconds to part. When they finally did pull back, cheesy smiles adorned both their faces and carried through to their eyes. Looking at each other, they knew that whatever taunts and insults were thrown their way wouldn't matter. They have each other. They would always have each other.

The next day when Santana entered her first period classroom and found the word 'DYKE' printed on her desk in yellow chalk, Santana only laughed, pulled Brittany in for a kiss, and decided that the chalk gods had nothing on her anymore.


End file.
